Read Death Turns A Trick (Rebecca Schwartz #1) (A Rebecca Schwartz Mystery) (The Rebecca Schwartz Series) for Free Online

were all wearing miniskirts a few—” I stopped because he was no longer listening. Apparently, the big deal wasn’t anything I said. It was something his eyes were following, something on the other side of the room. I looked, but all I saw was a knot of people taking drinks from a tray Kandi was holding.

Chapter Six
     
    The cops offered Elena a terrific deal: they said they'd be convinced I wasn't a car thief if she'd come down to the Hall and pay her two hundred dollars worth of traffic warrants.
    She told me to sit tight while she took a taxi to HYENA headquarters and borrowed money from the bail fund. I asked her if she'd look around for my purse and bring it along.
    “I found it awhile ago,” she said, “and I realized you'd be locked out. So I sent Kandi to take it to you.”
    “Did she phone when I didn't turn up?”
    “Come to think of it, no. I guess she’s still waiting for you.”
    * * *
     
    “Rebecca, my dear, Elena said, “you looked stunning, but my God!” Jeannette von Phister, the founder of HYENA, pecked my cheek, and I turned to introduce Parker, but he wasn’t there. I figured he’d wandered off.
    “Twenty-five dollars at Magnarama,” I said. “The whole outfit.”
    Jeannette herself, in a decorous brown wool dress, looked, as always, like a well-groomed publicist. Though she called herself a “retired call girl,” there was a malicious rumor that she’d never turned a trick in her life.
    “I just got here,” she said. “Elena asked me because I set it up—I wouldn’t say that’s procuring, under the circumstances, would you? Isn’t it a kick?”
    “Especially for the likes of me,” I said.
    Jeannette raised an eyebrow. “Come, now. You make a great-looking little hooker. Are we still having dinner tomorrow night?”
    “Of course.”
    “Seven-thirty,” she said, “at the Washington Square Bar and Grill. I’ve got a proposition for you.”
    And she was off before I could make any witless jokes about propositions.
    I looked around for Parker, but I didn’t see him, and I didn’t like the way a big blond guy was watching me, so I sat back down and started playing.
    I tend to forget everything else when I’m playing, so I was in a sort of trance for about the next forty-five minutes, but it wasn’t so deep that I didn’t observe two things: The FDOs knew how to have a good time, and my clients were perfect ladies.
    Some of the guests were excellent dancers and a good many of them had hollow legs, if the number of empty glasses was any indication.
    As for the hostesses, they were equally gracious to guests of both sexes, and they did not behave in a bawdy or provocative way—which is more than I can say for a good number of the guests. Of both sexes.
    When I stopped playing again, I made another stab at trying to find Parker. I didn’t find him, but for some reason it didn’t bother me. I don’t think it even entered my head that he’d leave the party without telling me why. I just assumed we were somehow missing each other.
    There was champagne at the bar, and I poured myself some. “Cheers,” said a male voice, and a glass clinked against mine. “You been in this business long?”
    The voice belonged to a tall, broad man, probably in his late thirties but not very well preserved, the same man I’d seen watching me earlier. He had sandy hair and a face that missed being handsome because it was overly florid and a little on the mean side.
    I saw no reason to go all fluttery and say I knew he wouldn’t believe it, but actually I was a Montgomery Street lawyer helping out a friend. So I lied. “Not very,” I said.
    “I thought not. How'd you happen to get into this line of work?”
    I told Elena’s story about the woman professor who’d taught her everything she knew.
    The man laughed and offered his hand. “My name’s Frank. What’s yours?”
    “Rebecca.”
    “May I call you Becky?”
    “AbsoLUTEly not. Never. Not if you paid me a thousand